


Lopsided Smiles // Petekey

by leophobia



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leophobia/pseuds/leophobia
Summary: Mikey needed the pain, and Pete needed to take it away.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. The First.

Mikey Way could not go home. 

He was supposed to, and technically he could, but he dreaded it so much, he decided he just couldn’t. He loved his boyfriend- or, he thought he did- but he couldn’t deal with Chris at the moment.

Walking towards his home and pushing his boxy glasses up his nose with one finger, Mikey debated where else he could go at 12:15pm (he worked the morning shift at Barnes & Noble) and decided on a random cafe he saw. He walked in, hoping this was the last place Chris would look for him. He sat at an empty table that looked particularly lonely, maybe betrayed. It looked worn, like it was once loved so much that it was too much, and no one wanted it anymore. Mikey felt he could relate in an unrelatable way, so he sat there. The table that had been loved too much, seating the boy who hadn’t been loved enough. 

The cafe’s interior was colored with greens, tans, and whites, which was pretty nice in Mikey’s opinion. He liked how bright and fresh it was, but not stark and bitter like the coffee he had just ordered. It was crisp and delightful, a major contrast from the dark reds and browns of his home- Well, it was Chris’s home. Mikey got to live there. 

The lanky boy adjusted his beanie to cover his ears equally and shifted his light brown hair out of his eyes as his coffee was brought to him by an overly enthusiastic waitress. She had beautiful brown hair and the prettiest hazel eyes, accompanied by a dazzling smile. Her name tag labelled her as Kristin. Too bad he was gay. 

Mikey sipped his beverage silently, starting to drown in his thoughts that were blacker than his coffee. One could determine Mikey’s mood based on two different things about his coffee- The more creamer, the happier he was. The louder he slurped it, the happier he was. 

He had been drinking bitter coffee in dead silence for a few years now. 

How had he not fixed his problems yet? How was he still such a worthless burden? He spilled things, he knocked them over, he always said the wrong things, he couldn’t cook or clean well enough, he hurt people, he snapped at the smallest things... He was lucky to have Chris. Chris gave him shelter and food and clothes. He had to take what he could get. 

“Hi.”

The heat of the coffee on his wrist when he spilled it was enough to pull Mikey back into reality after being startled so badly he squeaked. He turned around to see who had greeted him, and locked eyes with a much shorter and tanner boy with short, black hair, and his fair share of tattoos. 

Mikey blushed out of embarrassment and half-smiled up at the stranger. “Uh, hi.”

The stranger smiled back, showing only a few teeth. Mikey thought this was welcoming but not in an overly inviting way, just a friendly invitation to speak comfortably, which eased him a bit. He always noted these things about people, as if he would consider getting to know them. He never got to know people anymore- that was too risky. 

“So basically, my friends are douches, right? And they dared me to tell my crush I liked him. Well there’s no fun in that,” Pete slid into the booth across from Mikey, a smirk on his face, “so I think I’ll start off by saying you are very cute and my name is Pete Wentz.”

Mikey, who couldn’t help but be fascinated by the stranger’s simple first name and unique last name, was dumbfounded. Not even by how forward this stranger was, but how could someone like him? He knew he was a filthy mess of negative emotions that only caused trouble, and he certainly wasn’t cute. The bags under his eyes and untamed hair didn’t help. “I- how-”

Pete smiled warmly, bright enough to match the room. “I don’t know you at all, but I would like to.” 

Mikey’s shock quickly turned into uneasiness, which started spiralling. There was no way this stranger found him cute. It had to be some mean prank. And if he did get to know him, he would only be disappointed. Maybe this was a homophobe trying to trick him. So many things were wrong with this whole situation, and he needed to leave. He didn’t want to disappoint this guy, and he didn’t want to be hurt by him. And even if Pete was a trustworthy, honest person, people change. Mikey had seen that firsthand. Whatever the problem was, he wanted to get away from it- as far away as possible. 

“I- I’m sorry, but I- I need to leave. I’m sorry…” Mikey called for the waitress and paid before scrambling away as fast as he possibly could, leaving behind a very confused and upset Pete Wentz. 

Mikey got home fairly quickly, done with upsetting people for the day. He hoped he wouldn’t see Chris, but as soon as he walked in, his boyfriend sprang up from the couch. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Chris snapped, venom coating his words as they dripped from his lips, the lips that touched every inch of Mikey Way and would continue to do so as long as they could. 

Mikey flinched and set down his backpack by the door. “I went for coffee…”

“You’re supposed to tell me when you go places, sweetheart.” 

Mikey gulped at the nickname he used to love. Three years ago it had been so light and warm and loving, like he was Chris’s valentine every single day, and they lived in a cliche coming of age movie. It was beautiful. Now, the word was heavy, like Mikey felt. He felt heavy like dead weight dragging everyone down, including himself. The word was like a dark hissing from a massive snake that wanted only to restrict you more and more until you couldn’t breathe. 

Mikey decided then that he didn’t like snakes. 

“I’m sorry, I just-” 

“Come here,” Chris cut his boyfriend off, waving him over to the couch he stood next to. 

The boy with glasses obliged, slowly nearing him, until his wrist was grabbed harshly. Chris tightened his grip, even though he knew Mikey wouldn’t struggle. He pushed the submissive one onto the couch and got mostly on top of him, an arm on either side. He kissed Mikey, lips first, before moving down to his jawline. 

Mikey tilted his head back. He knew better than to struggle. If he struggled, he would get hurt. He got hurt sometimes if he obeyed, but he definitely would if he struggled. So he let it happen. 

He hated it, though. He hated the way Chris’s lips on his neck felt like spiders and snakes and everything venomous. It felt like all the life was getting sucked out of him, and in return he got a bruise, which, if we’re being honest, hurt him. There were so many all over his pale neck, and it hurt, mentally and physically. Mikey knew if he didn’t satisfy Chris, though, bad things would happen. So he gasped and made the exact sounds Chris wanted, just right, because what Chris wanted is what Chris got. Mikey knew that by now.


	2. The Second.

Because of his job and life, Mikey’s sleep schedule was entirely fucked. He slept from around two in the afternoon to six in the evening, maybe seven if he was lucky. 

He had just woken up now, and it was only five, so he put dinner-making on hold. He didn’t really know what else to do, because now Chris was at work, so he sat on the floor, leaned back on the couch, and let himself get lost in his thoughts again. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about that Pete guy, or more so his words and their circumstance. He had approached so suddenly… 

What would Chris do if he knew Mikey was thinking about another guy? It wouldn’t be good. But he didn’t have to know, now did he? Mikey could think whatever he wanted. That’s why he did so much thinking- It was the one thing Chris couldn’t control. Mikey’s thoughts were his and his alone, and no one else could touch them. They may have been horrible and negative thoughts, but they were his. 

Mikey looked over at the clock and realized he needed to make dinner, but he was so tired he decided to just order pizza. He wasn’t hungry, so he only ordered what Chris would want, hoping and praying he was doing it right. But then, he decided he would do something wrong intentionally, because he needed to be hurt. 

He needed to be hurt, because it had been almost a week, and the safety was uncomfortably unfamiliar. He didn’t deserve to be clean and safe, he and Chris both knew that. And something about the absence of blood and scars and gashes made him feel so empty. They gave him real feelings, feelings he couldn’t get elsewhere. He needed the wounds, the feelings, the punishment. So he cancelled the order. He didn’t get food ready. 

When Chris arrived to a lack of food and Mikey sitting on the floor, he was livid. He went to his boyfriend and hoisted him up by his shirt collar, looking him dead in the eyes. Mikey noted that the blue in his eyes, which were once just like the open sky, showing freedom and hope and possibility, now showed darkness and hatred, but also depression. The blue was just like the blue that always depicted sadness. It was heartbreaking. 

“Where’s the food, sweetheart?” There it was again. Chris’s arm holding him turned to a snake, and his words turned to hissing. 

“I forgot…” Mikey lied, because he couldn’t say he wanted the pain for obvious reasons. 

“You know what I have to do then.” 

Mikey nodded, and Chris swung. 

~~~

After he had showered to clean off the blood, Mikey looked in the mirror and tried to clean himself up. He put on concealer to cover up the bruises and gashes, because Chris didn’t want anyone asking questions. 

He hummed to himself as he finished making himself look okay- making himself look like he did when he first met Chris, happy and full of life, like a cliche Disney princess, spreading love and positivity. And he didn’t even know. 

The room got slightly darker, and Mikey wondered what that was from, so he looked around, eyes resting on the open window. Why was there even a window in the bathroom? He went over to the useless window and looked outside, noticing that clouds had hid the sun from view, and Mikey could relate. He had been so shiny, and then covered up and darkened. Lackluster and dull, sometimes gloomy and dark, just like the sky turning gray. 

It was dead silent in the house- but not a comforting silence, like the silence you fill with loving glances and comforting touches. This silence was threatening, like a scream cut off suddenly with nothing there to fill the void. Leaving you wondering what caused the scream and what silenced it so hastily. That’s why Mikey stuck his brunette head out the window, trying to pick up something other than uncomfortable silence. All the birds had retired, though, and so had most of the noise and bustle of the unfitting suburbia. Mikey suddenly wanted more to hear something, anything. 

And that’s how he ended up climbing out the window. It was on the ground floor, so he was fine as he landed on the ground rather ungracefully. He paused and waited for Chris to appear out of nowhere somehow, but that never happened. So Mikey stood up, dusted himself off, and headed to nowhere in particular. 

He walked through the all-too-familiar neighborhood, where every house was the same, concealing the horrors or happiness within. Some families were perfect, and some just wore that mask. Mikey knew his house looked totally normal, and when he and Chris were together in public, they wore the same mask that everyone else did. Yet, the hate never ended, because there were people like his father that couldn’t see past the limits of their own closed minds. 

When he saw the cemetery, he was immediately drawn to it, despite the silence. In the cemetery it was a good silence, because it was always silent. It was so silent you could hear your thoughts perfectly clear, and you could sort through them and clean them up a bit. And, with the silence, the deceased could truly rest in peace. 

When Mikey entered, he felt as though he was ruining the peace with every quiet footstep, because the footsteps were loud enough to break that comfortable, soothing silence. He found a place to sit quickly, by a large oak tree. He figured that was pretty cliche, but it was cliche for a reason, right? 

And then, after about ten minutes of spiralling and trying not to cry, the silence was horribly, brutally murdered by the sound of singing. Not that the singing was bad- It was just loud, and you can tell there wasn’t much effort to it. They weren’t singing to be good, they were singing to be singing. Mikey hadn’t done that in a long time. 

Mikey didn’t particularly want to interact with the singer, but before he knew it he was walking in the direction of the voice, as if the words were a breeze carrying him there. 

His feet carried him over a small hill and to a recognizable face- Pete Wentz. Mikey gasped almost silently, at least 10 feet away. Pete didn’t notice. His eyes were closed, he had on bulky black headphones, and he was dancing like no one was watching, because he didn’t think anyone was. 

Pete was dancing around without a care in the world, like any negative thought had fallen off in the process. He spun around clumsily and laughed to himself, opening his eyes because he had almost fallen. And that’s when he made eye contact with Mikey. 

“Oh hey,” Pete smiled lopsidedly, a confused but pleased smile, like he was scared and comforted at the same time, which he was. 

Mikey waved with more awkwardness than ever, eyebrows showing worry by turning up in the middle, and his lips curled into an almost-smile. It was so dorky and clumsy that Pete found it adorable and had to force himself not to blush. 

The shorter of the two rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, indicating his embarrassment and overall uneasiness. “What brings you here? Visiting a loved one?”

“I don’t really have loved ones..” Mikey blurted out. He didn’t mean to say that, of course. But he could fix it. “I mean- They’re all alive…”

Pete figured something was left out here, but he didn’t even know the awkward guy’s name, so he held back on bombarding him with questions. He usually wouldn’t care about some cute kid, but he did now. And Mikey hated that he couldn’t.


	3. The Third.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally I did this oml

“I never got your name.”

Mikey debated on answering Pete’s question, that wasn’t even a question. Technically, he could just agree, because Pete had only stated the obvious. But then, Pete would ask for his name anyway. 

Mikey didn’t want to say his name, though. Knowing someone’s name meant they couldn’t be a total stranger, and Mikey wanted everyone to be a total stranger to him. Getting close to someone meant they would know enough about him to hurt him, and, well, he could hurt someone else, too. He had hurt his brother, and now they never spoke. He couldn’t get close to anyone else. But he couldn’t explain all this… Maybe just his first name would do. “Michael.” It sounded bland and lame, so maybe Pete would lose interest in him. 

Pete did not lose interest in him. “Any nickname? Mike?”

Mikey’s face twisted into a grimace of absolute disgust. He hated that name more than Michael. The name itself wasn’t that bad, but on him it was the most rancid thing. He wasn’t a Mike. Then again, he wasn’t really a Mikey. Mikey was full of love and hope, passing a spark of joy along to everyone he came in contact with like the sparklers kids have on the fourth of july. Michael was bland, lifeless, and mundane, like him. He’d start going by Michael. 

“No. Just Michael.”

“Not even Mikey?”

The boy with caramel-colored hair shook his head, glasses slipping down his nose ever so slightly. “Michael.”

“You have a last name?”

Mikey shook his head again, frustrating Pete slightly. He knew a relationship was out of the question now, but he wanted to get to know him for some reason. Mikey was this strange mystery that Pete wanted to solve, and he didn’t know why. Maybe he was intrigued by the cracks on his glasses, or the bruise on his thin cheek that was barely visible. Maybe it was the way he seemed so guarded and on edge like he thought everyone would hurt him, or how his eyes had so many colors but were so dull and sad. He could tell they were bright and shiny once, but someone took away the life. He needed to bring it back- to see those eyes’ potential. 

“I won’t, like, attack you or anything if that’s what you’re so worried about. I’m probably around your age, right?”

“I’m 20,” Mikey muttered, wondering how much he would reveal if this kid kept talking. 

“I’m 21. Hah, I can drink and you can’t.”

Mikey sighed, being very annoyed by his persistence. He couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t walked away yet. His feet took him there and kept him there, gluing him to the ground. 

It was darker now, and the miserably young adult tore his eyes away from Pete Wentz to admire the blackness. He, again, related to the way the darkness of night made everything more tired and shut off, but it wasn’t much better with light shining all over it. Mikey was broken, and no amount of light could fix it. Just like the cemetery he found himself stuck in, so still and quiet he felt he was disrupting everything by simply existing. But then again, he always felt that way. 

Pete came to the cemetery quite often, so he decided he would much rather admire this Michael. He had been for a short while- that’s why he approached him at the cafe. Mikey was the closest thing to a crush, because Pete was very gay, and Mikey was very cute. He took in the way Mikey seemed to melt into his surroundings, zoning out, but really zoning into the cemetery. He watched as the taller boy’s eyelids approached his cheeks with a flutter as he inhaled gracefully, seemingly absorbing the graveyard they stood in- that they weren’t supposed to be standing in together. Pete knew that his mystery didn’t want to be there with him, he wanted to be there alone. And, well, that was Pete’s original intention. His mystery, lanky but beautiful, continued breathing softly with his eyes barely shut. Pete couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside of his head. He seemed so peaceful at the moment, basking in the silence like a lizard with a heating lamp. But his face looked so sullen and exhausted. His light had been unplugged. Pete had to find the outlet. 

Mikey was thinking about Chris. The old Chris. The Chris that held his hand gently but reassuringly tight, took him anywhere and everywhere, and served as the lighter that lit Mikey’s sparklers. He had brought upon that dorky, lopsided smile that hadn’t played upon Mikey’s thin, pale lips in so long. He had comforted him and congratulated him always, not a moment’s hesitation. Pete looked like someone who would do the same.. No, no. He couldn’t get attached to this near-stranger he already knew too much about- even just mannerisms and tone. If only they were total strangers still. 

Mikey finally opened his eyes, snapping back into reality like someone tazed him. He turned his attention back to Pete begrudgingly. “Why did you have to tell me your name?”

“Huh?”

He hadn’t realized he’d asked that out loud until he got the response. “I, uh- Nothing. Nevermind, shit…” he muttered, flooding with regret. 

Pete brushed it off. “Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was dared to tell my crush I liked them, but I don’t have one, and I always thought you were cute, so…” 

The younger boy’s cheeks went from a sad pale to a nervous pink. “I- I have a boyfriend, Pete… I’m sorry, but, I- I can’t.”

“Oh…” Naturally, this was disappointing. Mikey knew that- He knew he was being a huge disappointment once again. He barely knew this guy and had met only yesterday, and he’s already managed to upset him twice. He figured he was pretty good at being a total fuckup.

Pete couldn’t stop noticing every tiny detail in the younger boy’s mannerisms, and he wanted to know who built this Berlin Wall around him. So he asked a simple question. 

“Wanna talk?” 

The shock of this question was enough to make Mikey wince. It was sudden and sharp, like Chris. But it wasn’t venomous like Chris. It was so heartfelt and sincere it stabbed him in the gut, and Mikey hadn’t even realized he’d said yes. 

Pete sat down, and he motioned for his mystery to do the same. He complied, and the pair were sitting in the cool grass, facing each other. But rather than seeing each other they saw each the night’s haze around them, like an aura but far more, created by the night and the connection they hated they had. 

It started to rain. 

“Talk to me.”

The younger of the two squinted up at the clouded black sky, droplets of water like his own tears dotting his glasses. “About?” 

“Anything. Your life, your past, your boyfriend, whatever.”

Mikey looked back at the speaker, finally making eye contact again. “Why would I do that?”

One corner of Pete’s lips turned upward slightly more so than the other like a smirk, but soft and gentle instead. “Why not?”

He didn’t have an answer he was willing to say, per usual. The reason was simply because he didn’t want to be attached, and, well, you know the rest. He couldn’t let this man into his life, and opening up would only do just that. But he couldn’t explain that, because that explanation would be opening up too, wouldn’t it?

“Because I’m in solitary confinement and the door is locked from the outside,” Mikey blurted out, spilling his guts all over the grass between them. He meant what he said, because he knew freedom would be dangerous for himself and others, but he didn’t mean for Pete to hear it, too. 

Pete, who was now full of mystified and worried looks, completely in awe of everything about the boy who sat in front of him. “How do I unlock it?” he inquired hopefully. He wanted in- No, he wanted to let Mikey out. 

“You don’t. The key was lost a long time ago. I’ll be here forever.”


	4. The Fourth.

“Mikes, I’ve gotta get you outta there,” Pete let out, breaking the silence they had shared for a long while now. Mikey had stopped speaking out of guilt for the dead and out of fear for himself, and Pete just hadn’t known what to say. 

The younger, hating the use of the nickname, didn’t reply; he stared up at the black sky crying, somewhat jealous that it could open its floodgates when need be, and he had to keep his shut always. 

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Chris Saporta,” Mikey answered, barely above a whisper, trying to conceal his words as he spoke them. The rain helped cover it up too, but Pete still heard, because over time, they’d gotten closer and closer to each other. 

“I’m sorry, Saporta?!”

The taller one flinched and shifted slightly to hide it. “Yeah…?”

“My ex-boyfriend’s brother is your boyfriend?!” 

Mikey’s eyes were as wide as the moon. “Ricky?”

“No, Gabe!” Pete threw his arms in the air dramatically before falling back down to the wet grass. 

“Chris said Gabe is a douche.”

“Yeah, that’s why he’s my ex. Did you never, like, meet the family? How long have you been together?”

The questions and hype were racking Mikey’s nerves, but he did manage to remain calm. “Three years. It’s been… rough.” He instantly regretted what he said, of course- he regretted most everything he said or did.

Pete’s face fell. He knew the family well enough to form some assumptions. He figured Mikey was manipulated and treated badly- he didn’t even know the worst of it. 

“You can leave him, you know. I was manipulated, too. He threatened me when I wanted to leave and I didn’t know then that it was all empty. They’re weak, they won’t hurt you.”

This would’ve been a fantastic thing to say if it had been true. 

But it wasn’t true, and Mikey’s solitary confinement cell was about to flood. The drizzle of rain around the two wasn’t helping any. He was wet, cold, and distressed.

“He will.”

“Mikes-” 

“He does.”

At that moment, Mikey knew he had said too much. Far too much. And there was no going back, no covering it up. He bit back his bottom lip as he watched Pete’s face fall lower than ever before. 

Pete didn’t know how to help, but he knew that he would. Chris had to have been the one that locked Mikey up in the lonely cell he had. He was going to get Mikey out and far away from Chris. But first, Mikey needed comforting, because he looked like he was about to explode. 

“You can cry if you want. Nobody will see but me and the ghosts, and they’ve seen plenty of tears. Go on, blend in with the rain.”

The words were so heartfelt that Mikey’s heart had to speak, too. “I don’t know what I did wrong…” He could never admit it before. Something in him always told him he deserved it. But he didn’t know why. 

Rather than saying anything, Pete just scooted over to Mikey and pulled him into a hug that could only be described as warm. Warm like the fireplace after coming inside on a freezing winter day, and the hot chocolate you drink, and the blanket you pull over yourself and your loved ones. A wonderful warm that melted the cold of the rain and the cold of the aching truths that lay around the pair. 

Mikey blended in with the rain pretty well, opening his floodgates like he wanted so badly to just minutes before. 

How and why had he let himself reveal so much? 

“I’m so sorry, I- I’ll just hurt you…”

“You’ll only hurt me if you hurt yourself.” 

That would’ve been another stab to the gut normally, but for whatever reason, it almost comforted him. Pete could be trusted, at least for now, right? 

He was being way too trusting. 

But the way Pete was holding him and letting him cry was so right… It was way too good to be true. It couldn’t be genuine. 

Right? 

The confusion and conflicting stances in his brain pushed and pushed on the floodgates until they broke completely, letting out every tear he had and more. He was just dryly crying eventually, but you couldn’t tell because of the sad raindrops dripping down his thin, pale cheeks. 

The boy who’d been loved wrongly holding the boy who hadn’t been loved. 

“Mikes, it’ll be okay. I’ll get you out of that solitary cell, I promise. The world has so many more colors to offer than padded white walls.”

“What if I like it dull?” Mikey let out barely above a whisper, almost a whimper really. 

“You like it dull because you haven’t seen all its potential. Your eyes alone are more colorful than your entire world.”

Mikey paused, pondering Pete’s words and the weight of them which was so heavy. 

“I need to get home,” the younger boy muttered, letting go and clumsily standing up, almost slipping in the mud that had collected around the two and smeared their clothes. 

“Did I do something?”

Mikey shook his head. 

“Well, wait, gimme your arm.” 

Mikey did as told, extending his arm to Pete who had stood up by now, more clumsily than his counterpart. And he watched as a phone number was written on his arm in pen, feeling the scratch of it but being thankful it wasn’t marker, because pen could be washed off with ease. 

“Thanks.”

“Of course. Keep those eyes bright for me, okay?”

There was a nod met with another nod, and the two went their seperate ways as Mikey dried his cheeks with his sleeve, which was completely pointless because the rain kept pouring, almost mocking Mikey because he couldn’t keep crying. He continued his walk home in what would be silence if not for the rain’s teasing. Walking back through the dark suburbia as the sky became warmer and warmer was normal for him. 

When he arrived home, thankful that Chris was asleep, he decided he may as well get some coffee. As he turned on the Keurig he noted the time, which was 3:01am. He had two hours before he had to leave for work. He leaned on the counter, his face illuminated by the bright green light from the digital clock on the stove, keeping the kitchen from being totally dark. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Mikey winced at the voice slithering through the dark of the house, regretting coming home already. But he deserved whatever came his way. 

“Yes?” 

“Come here.”

Taking a deep breath, the brunette scurried out of the kitchen and into the living room where Chris was laying on the couch, shrouded in darkness. 

“Why are you muddy?”

Mikey gulped. “I took a walk.” He know lying was pointless because somehow Chris always found out the truth, but he didn’t have to tell everything, now did he?

“Where?” Chris snapped, getting up. 

Mikey flinched and moved his hands up to cover his face by instinct, revealing the writing on his arm. And that’s what made Chris angrier than he had been in a long while. 

“What’s that number?” There was that hissing again, but it was sharper and louder than ever. 

“A friend I made…”

Chris glared, grabbing Mikey’s wrist harshly. “You think you can just go out with other people after all I’ve done for you?!”

“What? I-”

Mikey was cut off when Chris jerked him away and dragged him to the hallway. 

“Chris…”

The taller of the two threw open the door to the unused basement, and Mikey knew exactly what was happening. Chris grabbed his boyfriend’s phone from his back pocket and shoved him onto the stairs. “You’re staying down there for a long time, sweetheart. It’s not like your job gets us any money, anyway. I do all the work around here and you sneak off and leave!” He slammed and locked the door. 

Mikey was truly in solitary now.


	5. The Fifth.

Mikey had been gone for a day and a half. Pete was freaking out, which Patrick had definitely taken note of. He was pacing around Patrick Stump’s room anxiously, a hand in his short black hair. 

“Pete, I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe his phone broke or the number washed off his arm…” Patrick tried consulting once more. 

Patrick was a few months older than Pete, but he was 22. The two lived together, and because Pete was clearly very gay, everyone thought they were dating. Patrick was straight, though, and Pete didn’t like him that way. They were just best friends and roommates. The older of the two always seemed to be wearing hats, especially fedoras. He had brown hair that was similar in color to Mikey’s, but less scraggly and messy. 

“You don’t understand the situation he’s in,” Pete replied sourly, sitting on the bed. “It’s bad. He could be in danger.”

“Maybe you could tell me, then?” Patrick was sitting his dark blue bean bag that matched the comforter his friend was sitting on. 

Pete took a deep breath. He knew it wasn’t his place to tell, obviously. If Mikey wanted people to know he would tell them. But Mikey could very well be in danger, so Pete had to take action. “He has... an abusive boyfriend. Whose brother is my ex.”

Patrick’s face fell to one of shock and despair. “Ricky?”

“No, Chris.”

Patrick hadn’t known there was a third, but as always, he decided to pretend he knew what was going on. “Oh. Maybe ask Ricky where Chris it, since Ricky is actually a decent human and kinda liked you. I’m sorry about th-”

Pete cut off his sincere apology, shooting up from the bed and scaring Patrick half to death. “PATRICK STUMP, YOU’RE A GENIUS!” he yelled enthusiatically.

“I- I am?”

“YES! I have to find where Ricky lives now…” He sat back down, scrunching up his lips in thought. 

“We could ask around, right? He probably still lives in this town. No one ever leaves this place…” Patrick was right about this. Only few people ever left, and those were always the people who were born there and raised to hate it. Or raised to love it, and that’s why they detested it. 

“AGAIN WITH THE GREAT IDEAS!” Pete stood again, almost falling over he was so hyped. He ran out the door, leaving Patrick doe-eyed on his bean bag. 

The older boy adjusted his fedora and ran after his friend. “Pete, wait!”

“NO TIME TO WASTE, MY FRIEND.” Pete flew out the door and across the street to Ray Toro’s house, because Ray Toro always knew everybody. He knocked on the door and shifted his weight between his feet anxiously as Patrick caught up. 

Patrick was intensely out of breath. “Oh, Ray, smart,” he panted. 

“Come on, answer!”

As if he was summoned, the door was opened, revealing a guy around their age with somewhat of an afro which everyone admired. “Oh, hey guys. How a-”

Pete cut him off. “Do you know where Ricardo Saporta lives?” His whole tone and expression revealed his desperation, making Ray feel guilty about his response. 

“No...” 

Pete’s face fell. He was horribly upset by the entire situation and this didn’t help, because if anyone knew where Ricky lived, it would be Ray. 

“Ricky Saporta,” Patrick assisted.

“Oh! Yeah, him. Come inside,” Ray smiled, stepping aside to grant the two fain boys access. 

The smile returned to Pete’s face as he stepped inside, his friend following closely behind. Ray led them to the kitchen and offered Kool-Aid, which Pete declined but Patrick gratefully accepted. 

“Why do you need to know where Ricky lives?”

“Because I need access to Chris Saporta with Ricky Saporta,” Pete replied despondently.

“Weren’t you dating Gabe?”

“Yes, but I need Chris.”

“Why?”

Pete sighed in annoyance. “Because my friend is in trouble and Chris is at fault!” he snapped. 

Ray, stunned and startled, flipped through his address book and recited the address of Ricky Saporta. Pete thanked him and hastily dragged Patrick away, making the older boy squeeze his Kool-Aid pouch and spill it on his hand. 

The two boys dashed down the road to the address, which Pete had been reciting over and over so as not to forget it. 

And Pete knocked on the door. 

There wasn’t an immediate answer, so Pete instantly grew nervous, pacing the small padio of the house. It was a cozy, welcoming padio, matching the light blue house it accompanied. It was white, along with the door, trim, accents, etc. Patrick was taking note of the lovely colors and decor, wondering where they got those pretty flowers, when the door opened. 

“Hello?” asked a lovely woman. She was ever so slightly short, which was easy to see because she was barefoot and just around the boys’ height (Patrick was 5’5 and Pete was 5’6). She had on a flowy, orange and yellow floral dress, down to just above her knees. 

“Hi,” Pete started excitedly, “Is Ricky Saporta here?”

“He’s at work, why?”

“Because I need access to his brother. Not Gabe.”

The woman’s face fell, but only for a moment, because she covered it up with a fake smile. The kind of smile Pete noticed on Mikey so often.

“Come inside.”


	6. The Sixth.

“Sit down,” the woman invited with a grim tone that her smile couldn’t cover up. “I’m Maya.” 

Pete shook the hand she had extended. “I’m Pete, this is Patrick. We n- I need to get Ricky to take me to Chris.”

Maya sighed, scrunching up her lips in thought. “Did Chris… hurt someone?” It hurt her to say it and it hurt the recipient to hear it, but what was the point of stalling? 

He nodded. 

“Ricky should be home soon.”

The three of them decided on discussing things that really meant nothing, like news and varying other topics they didn’t care for. The only reason for doing so was to compensate for the lack of stability in the more important occurance. Pete and Patrick had taken the lush couch, and Maya sat in a huge armchair. After a few minutes of chatting about meaningless nothings to cover up the pounding of the worry in their minds, the front door swung open to reveal a cheery man who looked all too similar to Gabe Saporta. 

The man’s face was glad and shocked. “Pete?!” His face shifted into a grin as he hung his coat, tossing his keys onto the shelf hanging by the door. 

The two had only known each other through Gabe, and they had gotten along fine, but Ricky was a significantly older than his two brothers. They hadn’t known each other well, because Gabe was possessive, even though Ricky had had a girlfriend. 

Pete brushed aside all emotions. “Hi, yeah, it’s me. I need your brother. Chris, not Gabe. I never wanna see Gabe again.”

“Oh… Why?” Ricky asked with pure concern showing through, very on brand for him. He was always putting others before himself, unlike the rest of his family. Maya stood so Ricky could sit in the armchair, and she sat in his lap quite perfectly. 

“I’m sure you know why. Someone I care about is with him and has been for too long, and now he’s missing,” Pete explained bitterly, but as nicely as he possibly could. The pain and distress was grabbing his words by the throat and twisting them until they were in just as much pain as Pete knew Mikey probably was. 

“Do you… Do you know his boyfriend?” Patrick spoke up softly, just loud enough to be heard properly. He wasn’t one for speaking up, but Pete wasn’t one for falling in love with people and having to explain that they were in danger. 

The older man’s face revealed his concern to the fullest. “Yeah, Mikey Way. Poor kid… I’m pretty sure they’re still together, for whatever reason- You know him? How is he?”

Pete was almost comforted by Ricky’s concern, but he didn’t pay enough mind to it for it to help. “I know him, yeah. And I care a lot.”

“Pete doesn’t admit to caring or feelings, so you know this is serious,” Patrick cut in, regretting it instantly, but luckily for him, no one seemed to hear. At least, they didn’t acknowledge it. 

After a moment of thoughtful silence, making Patrick feel guilty for his poor word choice, Ricky spoke. 

“I have an idea.”

~~~

Mikey only missed three things: Coffee, work, and Pete Wentz. 

He wouldn’t admit to that last one to anyone for anything. 

The scrawny boy sat on the floor of the basement, leaning against the wall, wondering how long one could live without food and water. He had been brought water, but no food yet. Wasn’t it, like, a week?

Who came up with weeks, anyway? Days are from the sun and rotation and all that, obviously, but what about weeks and months? He knew there were originally ten months, October being the eighth, which made sense, but Julius Ceasar came along and added another two: July and August. Fuck Ceasar. Mikey didn’t even like salad. 

Back to weeks. If weeks are seven days, why are months varying numbers of days and weeks? Each month is a unique span of time, like a year, but years have the same number of days, as do weeks. What makes months so special? How does any of that work?

Mikey had slept more in his containment than he had in a very long time, on another note. He wasn’t sleeping long, but he took frequent naps that always ended in some form of a nightmare, mostly caused by trauma. But he didn’t know it was trauma, it was just life. 

Pete would tell him otherwise. 

God, that short guy that was so, so appealing in every way possible, ways Mikey didn’t even know. He hated it- how alluring Pete was. And how he was so thoughful and didn’t hesitate to comfort him for a second in the cemetery that night. That was so nice- too nice. It couldn’t last. Chris had been like that. Sure, he hadn’t had the same sparkle in his eyes or the magically hug that shouldn’t have helped as much as it did like Pete had. But they’d loved each other, and Chris changed. Pete could change, too. 

Then again, Chris came from a rough family with a tendency for violent behavior. 

But Mikey didn’t know about Pete’s family, did he? 

There were voices upstairs, and Chris came down the stairs hastily, slamming the door behind him. Mikey was startled; he pressed himself against the wall as much as he could, as if he could phase through and run away.

Chris grabbed a rag off of a dusty shelf, along with some rope, and Mikey instantly understood what was about to happen, but he didn’t understand why. Yet, he remained silent as Chris shoved the rag in his mouth, dragged him to a support pole, and tied his wrists together around it. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” he snapped, “make one peep, and no, I won’t kill you. But you’ll want me to. Stay fucking silent.”

Mikey nodded silently, scared out of his mind and very confused. But he wasn’t about to ask, that’s for sure. He watched with teary, wide eyes as Chris scoffed and disappeared up the stairs. 

What the hell did he do? He hadn’t once tried to get out. He didn’t complain, he wasn’t loud… He just silently sat there, thinking to himself about Pete. 

Why did he have to do that?


	7. The Seventh.

“I’m back…” Chris informed his guests as he slammed the door shut and joined them in his living room, which was always somewhat dim to various extents.

Pete and Ricky had a good idea of why he had left, but they tried to act oblivious, nodding in a very similar fashion. They stood side by side facing the other man, hiding their nervousness well enough. 

“So, you only came to catch up?” Chris asked skeptically. He hadn’t spoken with his brothers in a long while, and he couldn’t imagine why one suddenly showed up with some other kid just because. 

Ricky smiled, which was fake, but it looked real enough to pass as such. “Yep. You remember Pete, right? Gabe’s old boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Oh…” 

“Well,” Pete cut in with a convincing smile, “nice to meet you again, then.” He stuck out his hand to be shaken. 

Chris did as implied, shaking his hand firmly, without a word. Pete found this odd and unsettling, but perhaps it was because he already knew of how this man truly was. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” the youngest asked, running a hand through his black hair. 

“Second door on the right,” Chris replied. He turned to his sibling. “Can I get you anything?”

Pete snuck away as the brothers went to the kitchen, noticing the hallway wasn’t visible from said kitchen, and finding the second door on the right. And then, never entering the bathroom, he glanced to the right to ensure he wasn’t being watched as he opened the third door on the right. It was a furnished bedroom, but empty of people. It was dark, and a tree covered the window, keeping it shady and secluded. Pete could only assume this was the bedroom, where Chris and Mikey slept. He didn’t even want to think about the darker spots on the carpet. The bed was nicely made, though, he had to admit.

He left and carefully shut the door behind him, turning around. The room across the skinny, dim hallway was another bedroom, probably a guest room, though Pete couldn’t imagine who would stay here for more than an hour, let alone overnight. This room was lighter, with a window facing the street, letting in sunlight. Much nicer than the other bedroom in that sense, but it wasn’t furnished as nicely and it was significantly smaller.

He remained on high alert, feeling somewhat guilty for snooping, as he opened the other door on the left. An office. A bookshelf covered the window, keeping it dark. It was furnished in mostly whites and dark browns, which seemed far too nice for the kind of person Pete knew Chris was. And Mikey wasn’t even here. Frustration mixing in with the other negative feelings, Pete opened the first door on the right.

Stairs. There was a basement. 

He gasped almost silently and slinked in, shutting the door as quietly as possible. Pete made his was down a few steps. 

There was Mikey, bent over, sitting on the ground against a pole, head to his knees. 

Pete rushed over, practically sliding on the ground. “Mikes!” he whisper-yelled, alarm coursing through him and propelling him to keep from breaking down. 

Mikey’s head shot up, waking him harshly. He blinked wildly and his dark brows furrowed in shock. Pete removed the cloth, and Mikey immediately voiced his thoughts.“Pete? I- How- Get out of here!” His voice was even more hushed than his visitor’s. 

“I’m not leaving you here like this. I know it sounds cliche, Mr. Bright-eyes, but I can’t do that. You’re leaving here with me.” He got out his phone and typed vigorously, something Mikey couldn’t see. 

“What are you doing…”

“Nothing, stay here.” Pete stood, hesitated, pushed Mikey’s dirty, cracked glasses up a bit, and left. 

Mikey was left on the floor to wonder what had just happened and fear the outcome. He knew it wouldn’t be good. It couldn’t be. Chris was a snake. 

Who does he think he is? Mikey thought. Sneaking around a stranger’s house like he owns the place. What a douche. But at the same time, he only did that for me… He’s risking his safety for me?! He’s an idiot, too.

Or maybe he’s genuine. 

~~~

There was a knock. 

It sounded through the top floor of the house, and everyone fell silent. 

Only one person was oblivious. 

Footsteps echoed as the oblivious man made his way to the door. 

The door creaked open. 

“May we speak to Chris Saporta?”

Chris was no longer oblivious as he stared at the two police officers. 

“This is he.” 

~~~

Mikey heard muffled footsteps and voices growing louder and harsher. He pressed himself against the pole he was still tied to, fear stealing the breath from his lungs and gripping his throat so he couldn’t get more. The panic was more suffocating and restricting than what held his wrists together behind him. Pete had been gone for too long. 

As if on cue, though, the door to the basement was opened, and Pete came running down. He practicaly slid to Mikey and untied him hastily before wrapping him in the most urgent hug. 

A police officer was behind him. “Mind if I ask some questions?”

And then Mikey understood. He let go of Pete, murmuring, “Oh, no.. No, no, no, no…” The suffocation was worse than before. Chris was gonna be gone. It was changing too fast. He wouldn’t have a job, food, shelter… 

“Mikes, look at me.” 

Pete’s voice was convincing enough. 

“It will be okay. He deserves whatever comes his way for doing this to you. You can stay with me and Patrick, okay? He has a good enough job. I swear I will take care of you.”

Mikey broke eye contact, which would have been disappointing if it wasn’t replaced with another hug, even more urgent than the last. 

“I can wait for tomorrow,” the officer smiled sympathetically, turning away to deal with the scene upstairs. Mikey hadn’t let go, and he didn’t intend to. 

Pete was more than okay with that.


End file.
